


Halocene

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Multi, Pregnancy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unexpected, but perhaps for the best: Doumeki and Himawari ensure a way to keep Watanuki from being alone in the years to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halocene

She licks her lips and cries out softly, arching up as Watanuki slides into her, holding close to her, his lips brushing over the swell of her breasts. She quivers beneath him, grasping at him tightly, wanting to hold him close, to keep him close – knowing that Doumeki is outside the door, letting his aura cleanse the room, and it hurts as well was comforts. She closes her eyes, fingers curling into Watanuki’s hair. 

“Please,” she gasps out, and Watanuki’s fingers are warm and firm against her, stroking her to completion. She cries out, arms curling tight around him and legs clenching around his hips as she comes. And it’s only a few more moments of him moving over her before he’s coming, too, his mouth open, no sound escaping. She holds tight to him, wanting to memorize that moment, so she can hold it for another year. 

 

\---

 

It’s two months later and she’s staring down into her teacup, waiting for Doumeki to visit as he always does. And as he always does, he knocks gently to indicate his arrival, but enters without waiting for her to stand. She looks up at him and smiles wanly, but the light does not reach her eyes and she knows it – knows it, and knows what she has to say, and not wishing to. 

“I’m tired,” Himawari says quietly, her fingers swirling idly over the lip of the teacup. It’s a quiet moment together, the moments together are always quiet – the only sound filling the spaces between them usually Himawari. 

Doumeki is quiet, but he glances up at her to indicate that he is listening. 

She breathes out, tries to speak the words, but can’t manage it. Instead, she stands and fetches a cup of tea for him. They sit in silence, drinking their tea until it is lukewarm and the room is still. 

“… I’m pregnant,” she says, finally. 

If Doumeki is surprised, it doesn’t show on his face, but his lips turn downwards into a small, thoughtful frown. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to react, just waiting for her – waiting for her to speak, to lead the conversation. He listens, as he always does. Understanding. She watches his grip tighten on the teacup. 

Suddenly, she wants to cry. She clenches her teacup in turn for a moment, ducking her head. Tanpopo lets out a mournful little cry on her shoulder and tugs gently on a piece of her hair. She ignores him. 

She smiles, wan, her fingers dancing absently across the cup, because she does not know what to hold onto, and staying still seems too much. She sighs out. “I’m just… tired. Of it being like this.”

She doesn’t indicate, but she doesn’t need to for Doumeki to understand – he nods his head quietly, the tilt of his head sympathetic. 

Himawari blinks rapidly a few times because she feels the weight that presses down inside her chest, at once burrowing and yet trying to squeeze out of her. She bites her lip. She breathes out. 

“I’m tired of being alone,” she says. “I… can’t. Not anymore. After – everything.” 

“I know.” 

She shakes her head. “That’s just it. You don’t. I can’t put my life on hold like you can, Doumeki-kun. For Watanuki-kun, I… I would do so much. He – both of you made my life worth something. I can’t just suspend it.”

The little quivering inside of her continues. She presses a hand to her stomach and squeezes her eyes shut. 

“I know,” Doumeki says again.

She wants to hate him for his understanding. But she can’t quite manage it. 

“Is this what you wanted?” she asks. 

“No,” he says. Then shakes his head. “I didn’t know it would come to this.” 

She knows he wouldn’t lie – especially not about this, so she nods. She bites her lip, tears collecting in her eyes, threatening to well up and spill over. 

“I hate being alone. I hate being left behind. I have to live my life. But even so – even so, I… I… can’t be a mother,” she whispers. She buries her face into her hands. “What do I do?” 

He doesn’t answer her, knowing he can’t give an answer, perhaps, and she weeps silently with her head bowed, hands trembling, body shaking. She can’t stop. She doesn’t know how to anymore.

She looks down into her lap and sighs. “I… don’t want him to be alone, either.”

Doumeki is silent.

She studies her tea. “We won’t live forever.” 

He still doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to for her to know what he’s thinking – she’s thinking the same thing.

 

\---

 

The doctor tells her that she is already several weeks along. She smiles sadly, nodding. She knows. She already knows. There’s only one person who could possibly be the father – and it’s a man who can never be a father, not while he’s suspended, not while he’s waiting, not while he’s an entirely different world, dimension, from her. 

She’s never felt so alone as she does in that moment, a hand pressing self-consciously to her belly. 

 

\---

 

She doesn’t see Doumeki for several weeks. She doesn’t blame him for it – knows who takes his priority, who he cares for the most, because it’s the same for her—

But it is agony to be alone, to feel as if she is left behind yet again. She knows it’s unfair to think it of him, but she feels abandoned, feels as if he has cut his losses and has left her to her own fate. She knows it is unfair. She knows that, if anything, he will not abandon her because the child growing inside of her may be _hers_ but it is also part of Watanuki. And that is something worth protecting, and the reason why Himawari couldn’t fathom or stomach the idea of losing this little light inside of her – no matter how much it would be better. She would not intentionally lose it, even if, ultimately, she will kill it. 

She will kill it and she knows it, even if she does not want to, even if she does not mean to—

And the idea of killing something that is a part of Watanuki leaves her feeling as if she will curl into herself and shrivel up, a little piece of feather falling into a flame. 

 

\---

 

But he does come back, hands stained with the ink of old pages kept hidden and safe in his shrine home. He sets a book down in front of her and flips through the pages and points to the page he’s marked with a sticky note. A protection spell. A spell to summon good luck. 

Her hands shake as she touches the words, her own fingers stained with ink.

“Can you do that?” she asks.

“Are you going to tell him?” Doumeki asks. “Will you tell him?” 

Himawari hesitates, unsure how to respond. Her bottom lip quivers, and he touches her hair, gently. 

“You don’t have to answer right now. There’s still time.”

She bows her head, not having the heart to tell him that she _can’t._ She thinks that, deep down, Doumeki already knows this is the case – he already knows it’ll never be. 

 

\---

 

And, truly, she can’t – she doesn’t tell Watanuki anything. She calls him weekly, as she often does, and they talk about everything and nothing. If he suspects anything, he doesn’t say anything – and Himawari isn’t sure if he does, if he can even _know_ if she doesn’t hint at it. She never breathes a word to it, even if she’s already started to show, looking less pregnant, though, and more as if she’s putting on weight. Her hand grips the phone tightly as she tells him about the university courses (she’s already dropped out), or the night she spent at the bar with her friends (which she did not participate in at all), or the long walk she took in the park the other day (she isn’t walking much, her ankles already starting to swell). 

She knows that Doumeki does not approve of her keeping this secret, but it is not his secret to share, so he says nothing. At least, she hopes he says nothing. She trusts him, but she knows how deeply the bond between Watanuki and Doumeki runs. She wonders if Watanuki can instinctively tell that something is wrong with Doumeki, wonders if Doumeki would be able to lie if Watanuki asks directly – wondering if Watanuki would ask directly. 

But, true to his promise, Doumeki comes to her one Thursday evening with the little strip of paper with the ancient writing curling across the corners – the catalyst for the protection spell. 

“Will it work?” she asks, quietly, and Doumeki nods. 

“It should.” His expression is still as he studies the ink, checking for any blemishes although she knows none will be there – he is always thorough. She closes her eyes and tries to remember how to breathe. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says quietly. 

She nods, too, hands pressing to her belly. It’s a strange thing to think about – that there should be a child growing inside of her. 

She worries that it will die. It will be stillborn. Her hands shake.

It will die.

No, she will let it live. But it cannot be hers. She cannot be a mother. 

His hands cover hers upon her stomach and she closes her eyes, tries to breathe, tries to relax. 

“Thank you,” she whispers again, and he leans in and kisses her, kisses her quiet, strips away her clothes piece by piece. 

Their movements are about the economy of their situation – as fast and quickly as possible, although Doumeki is too much of a gentle soul not to linger his hands over her, to make sure that she sighs out and relaxes before continuing. She just grips to him, unable to fully relax, just wishing for it to be over. 

He drapes her legs over his arms, holding to her hips, and pushes into her gently. She sighs out, arching up, her body feeling full and broken at once, and he slides up and back down again, setting a steady rhythm. She watches his face until he ducks his head, concentrating. 

He makes sure she comes first, and she cries out quietly, her entire body shuddering, before he strokes into her a few more times and comes, too, and she feels him filling her up, his seed mingling with the little life inside of her. His hand touches the talisman across her stomach and she prays and hopes – hopes this will work, hopes that she can protect this child, this little thing that is hers. 

This little thing that can never be hers.

 

\---

 

“Will it work?” she asks again the next morning, when she wakes up in Doumeki’s arms and her heart aches at how familiar and lonely it makes her feel, as if she matters, as if this is normal, as if she is happy and in love and with the person she was meant to be with. She closes her eyes, turns her head, and nuzzles into his shoulder. 

He holds her, fingertips brushing through her hair, which is a ratted, tangled mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind. She breathes out, eyes closed still as he kisses her forehead – at once innocent and far too intimate. 

“It should,” he says, again. 

“How?” she whispers, a hand touching her stomach – it’s becoming a nervous habit. It used to be she’d touch her scars, nervously, proving to herself that they’re still there even though she knows they are, she can feel them etched into her skin. She touches her stomach now, afraid, though, afraid to touch – that her luck should linger, even though the child is inside of her, that she is nothing but bad luck. 

“A part of me will become part of it,” Doumeki says slowly, frowning. His touch in her hair is gentle, soothing. “It’ll create a protective seal for its mind and body.”

Himawari nods, not understanding but trusting that Doumeki will have found a way to protect this little life. 

She closes her eyes, trying to imagine herself as a mother. But all she can see is a child born from her already dead. 

She starts to shake and his hands smooth over her back, tracing over her scars, tangling into her hair. Her breath hitches.

“Sorry,” she says weakly.

He shakes his head, pressing his face into her hair, holding her close – keeping her safe. 

 

\---

 

She never tells Watanuki, and she sleeps often, her entire body swollen. She can feel the child kicking now – and the doctor says that it’s a boy – and her heart aches for want and for despair, for wanting it close—him close and wanting him gone, far far away. She can’t see her feet anymore when she stands and tries to walk – waddles, mostly – and she is mostly alone. She’s moved back in with her parents, who are supportive but disapproving of her lack of a justifiable relationship. She’s reassured them that she is not keeping the child, that the father is someone she doesn’t even know, someone she met in a club or a bar or at school. 

She spends most of her days sitting, staring down at her stomach in disbelief. Doumeki visits her, touches her hair, his expression gentle and comforting, and she feels as if she does not deserve it. 

The child is set to be born in January. 

Watanuki will never know. 

 

\---

 

The child, true to form, arrives in January. It’s a cold, blustering day, but she doesn’t notice it because it is a difficult, painful birth – and she clenches down in pain, with no one to greet her, with no time to warn Doumeki, who is doing a job for Watanuki as he always does with Kohane. 

And she tells herself she deserves the pain. She closes her eyes and just lets it happen. She does not protest. She does nothing. Her entire body shudders and trembles. It hurts. It hurts more than she thinks it should, more than she thinks it’s possible to feel – and she tells herself that she deserves it all. Deserves all of it. This is her punishment. This is her solace. 

So she bows into the feel of that pain, lets her body feel as if it will break apart, and she screams – and she is alone. She is alone and it is what she deserves.

When she comes to, blinks her eyes open, she knows she blanked out – only for a moment, perhaps, but enough that she can hear crying. Her own, but also the soft cries of an infant recently born. She turns her head, searching out the sound, her entire body crying out, her hands trembling as she attempts to lift them. 

A child is deposited into her arms and her entire body hurts. Her heart is heavy and she blinks rapidly to clear her vision, staring down at a child’s face. It is pudgy and difficult to make out, too indistinct for her to be able to tell if the child looks like her – or if it looks like Watanuki, or if the protection spell did what it was meant to and left the child Doumeki’s. 

Time seems to stand still as she gazes down at the little child in her arms. A child that cannot be hers. A child, she thrills, that still lives – not stillborn, as she partly feared it would be. Her throat feels dry. 

“Take it away,” she whispers. “Him,” she corrects quietly, tears spilling out of her eyes, “take him away.”

Take him away before it’s too much to let him go at all. And when she looks at him again, she knows she was wrong – the child is wholly another’s. She looks at his face for one last moment, and wonders if his eyes will stay looking just like Watanuki’s – Watanuki’s eyes in Doumeki’s face. She sees no traces of herself, and it is at once sad and wonderful. Better, this way, that this child should never know.

The child is taken from her arms and she lets out a small cry, but does not reach for him. The nurse touches her forehead, briefly, and she turns away, curling into herself. She closes her eyes. 

 

\---

 

Less than three months later, and it is Watanuki’s birthday. All traces of the roundness of her face is gone, and although her breasts are sore, she no longer produces milk. Her stomach is flat as before, and although she may perhaps be curvier than she once was, she knows that Watanuki will not be looking at her like she is a recently pregnant woman. He will still see the little high school girl he fell in love with. 

She smiles at him, warmly, and takes his hands in hers when he reaches for her. 

“Watanuki-kun,” she says gently, smiling. 

“Did you hear the news?” Watanuki asks. He smiles at her – warm and gentle and completely oblivious to the sharp spike of pain that stabs into her gut and refuses to leave. 

“Of course,” she says, after a pause, and she congratulates herself on how warmly her voice sounds, even to her own ears, “I went to see him myself a few days ago. Kohane-chan looks wonderful… she really glows. Although – their son already looks very much like Doumeki-kun, doesn’t he?”


End file.
